


Interlude. Or, We Learn That Dragons Aren't Like Horses

by Silence_Speaker



Series: Children Are A Blessing (When They Behave). [2]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: And more misunderstandings, Canon Divergence, Dysfunctional Family, Gen, Morgana being her usual scary (awesome) self, Poor Merlin, The events and time line are all messed up and subject to a crazy authors whims
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-21
Updated: 2015-01-21
Packaged: 2018-03-08 12:48:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3209747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silence_Speaker/pseuds/Silence_Speaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sword training and more time spent getting to know his father. (Sort of.)</p><p>Merlin isn't impressed.</p><p>The dragon is simply perplexed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. If wishes were horses...

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer.
> 
> Time events are so skewed...the episodes might sort of happen but certainly not in their correct order.
> 
> Also, updates will be irregular. Subject to my whims.

Arthur took a sip of his watered wine (he preferred not to drink full bodied alcohol in the morning, it left him a little too sleepy for him to spar properly), suddenly feeling parched.

The tension in the room seemed to racket up a notch.

His father, appearing not to notice, neatly sliced off a bit of sausage and ate it.

Merlin fiddled with a piece of fruit speared on his fork. 

Morgana sighed.

Well, for a first family breakfast this was going...

Was going...

It was going.

Merlin stared at his plate, eyes only occasionally lifting to dart around at each of them in turn, lingering on the two men like they were about to turn feral and start snapping.

Arthur felt a little affronted. Of all of them it would be Morgana who snapped first, she was just that ferocious. 

He caught Merlin’s eyes briefly before those blue orbs shot down to the table as though it was the most fascinating thing since jousting. The child fiddled with the food on his fork once again.

Uther cleared his throat. Merlin jumped and Morgana twirled one long dark curl of hair round her finger.

Arthur drained his goblet.

“Don’t play with your food.” Uther chided.

Merlin stiffened then carefully laid down the fork and sat still and silent, almost as though he had been frozen in place. As though he would be quite happy to sink into the floor and never be seen again.

Arthur frowned, had Merlin even taken a single bite? He’d played with it a bit but not actually swallowed a morsel. He opened his mouth to mention it when a sudden movement caught his eyes. Morgana knocked over her goblet with a deliberate jerk of her elbow and glared at him.

Arthur wondered what was wrong with the woman as she apologised, smiling gently, all signs of that dark glare wiped away.

Silence again fell around the table.

Merlin fidgeted.

Morgana sighed.

Uther wiped his mouth with a napkin before dropping it to his now empty plate before rising to his feet and leaving the room.

Morgana rolled her eyes and left too. By the time Arthur glanced back to Merlin the child was gone, an empty chair and plate of food the only sign he had ever been at the table.

Well, family breakfast...at least it was over. 

 

#

 

Merlin grinned as he avoided another crack in the cobble stones and hopped onto another chunk of stone.

His mother would walk ahead a bit then wait for him to catch up. He liked walking with Hunith because she didn’t get impatient and tell him to move along faster, she let him play his game.

He slipped and only just caught himself in time.

He eyed his mother, not too far away. He looked at the cobblestones that seemed to get smaller and smaller until he was sure even his feet were too big to stand on one. He gave up playing the game, it wasn’t really all that fun anyway, and scampered over to his mother. He didn’t realise she was talking to someone until he was too close to not continue so he made his way to her side.

It was one of those Knights! Merlin narrowed his eyes; they weren’t going to be nasty to _his_ mother. On second glance he realised he didn’t recognise this one. That did little to assuage his concerns.

“Merlin,” A familiar hand ran through his hair in a caress that Merlin would only ever admit to her he enjoyed. “Say hello to Sir Ewan.”

He stared at the Knight watching as he seemed to recognise who he was.

“Oh! You’re the prince’s...” 

Merlin waited tensely for the word. The word that seemed to dog his steps wherever he went. 

It didn’t come. The Knight looked cross.

“My apologies, my mouth ran away with me.” Sir Ewan said stiffly, inclining his head to mother. Her hand ran soothingly over his hair once again.

“Are you enjoying court so far?” Sir Ewan asked, leaning down to look at him.

Merlin tilted his head back, Sir Ewan was very tall.

He glanced uncertainly to his mother.

“Yes?” 

Sir Ewan seemed to mull over his response.

“So what have you found good?”

“Um...the castle is nice?...”

Sir Ewan stared at him. Merlin shifted uncertainly.

“I like the statues.” Merlin added into the silence, remembering the stone dogs he had petted the day before. Sir Ewan smiled, it looked stiff. 

Merlin shrank into his mother’s side slightly.

“Ah, there’s Gaius, I’m sorry to be so rude but I’ve got to quickly ask him a question. Won’t be long.” His mother murmured, gaze distant as she spotted the court physician. She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze before leaving him with the Knight. 

Merlin shifted, eyes following his mother’s retreat. His eyes automatically snapped to the Knight when he moved, kneeling on the stone in front of him.

“That looks painful.” Sir Ewan remarked quietly, indicating to Merlin’s face but not touching him. Merlin’s fingers twitched, almost involuntarily moving to trace the dark bruising.

He shrugged. He’d had worse.

“Hmmm.” The Knight murmured, eyes still scanning the mark. Merlin swallowed when he realised Ewan knew exactly how and where he’d gotten the bruise. He squared his chin. 

Ewan gave a funny little half smile and rose to his feet, stepping back as Hunith reappeared.

“Just examining his badge of bravery.” Ewan said easily with a smile to his mother. Hunith smiled.

“Yes, he’s a little clumsy, always tripping over and into things.” 

Merlin caught the quick glance down Ewan shot and hoped the Knight wouldn’t tell his mother the truth of where he got the bruise. Ewan’s face cleared.

“Aren’t all children?” The two adults shared a laugh before Ewan made his excuses and left.

Merlin glanced thoughtfully backwards as he and his mother continued on their way to view the market.

Sir Ewan seemed alright. For a knight.

 

#

 

“If you’re lurking in the hallway again you could at least make yourself useful!” Her voice shattered the silence. Arthur fumbled for the candlestick and grimaced as it fell to the ground, the metal clipping against stone in a rather irritating sound.

He debated whether it would be better for his peace of mind to just slink away now before he remembered that he didn’t back down from anything.

Not even a... _conversation_ with Morgana.

He slowly entered his doom. Sorry - Morgana’s chambers.

“Let me guess, you want to get closer to your new found son yet have no idea how to do so.” Morgana said not even looking at him as she examined the hems of three different dresses.

Arthur shut his mouth with a click.

“Please, you’re hardly discrete. And he’s a nice boy; I can see why you’d want to get to know him.”

She put the dresses down carefully on the bed and turned to face him with a rather daunting smirk.

“Since you have it all worked out, what do you suppose I do?” Arthur asked barely refraining from rolling his eyes. This was why he had loitered outside her rooms for so long. At least he could say she snapped before he did.

(He couldn’t quite ignore the sourness in his mouth from having to ask for _help_. From _Morgana_.)

“I told you.” She exclaimed incredulously, looking at him with that superior look she had perfected that said she thought his brains had leaked out of his ears in sheer disgust at being in his presence for one second longer.

Disdainful. Morgana was rather proficient at making grown men feel like they were five years old and knee high to a herring.

“...”

“Get to know him.” She was not so restrained in holding back an eye roll.

“How, exactly?”

“Find a common ground! He’s eight, it shouldn’t be too hard. Now unless you wish to be educated on the subtleties of woman’s dresses I suggest you leave before Lady Garr-”

He was out of the room before she said the word ‘dresses’.

Well, that hadn’t been any use at all.

And he got the vague feeling he’d been insulted.

Huh.

 

#

 

Merlin hummed tunelessly to himself as his mother examined yet another stall filled with exotic items.

It had interested Merlin...to begin with. But after the third stall they’d inspected his interest had begun waning. They were now on the twelfth. 

He sighed, slumping his shoulders. His mother didn’t notice, too drawn into her conversation about the quality of cloth. He scuffed his foot on the ground.

A set of stalls further down caught his attention, gleaming apples piled in a pyramid, coils of meat and the mouth watering scent of freshly baked bread.

Merlin wasn’t the only one eyeing those stalls hungrily.

He watched as a boy, only a bit older than him, snuck over to brightly coloured table and got his hand walloped by the man selling the wares for his trouble before he could even snatch at the food. 

The boy retreated sucking at his hand, that wooden spoon shaped like a bowl looked like it hurt! 

Merlin noticed the boy didn’t leave but instead disappeared in one of the shadowed areas close by followed by a scraggly dressed girl roughly the same age.

He eyed them as they approached the stall seller again, inching closer with the plan for one of them to distract and the other to snatch. Unfortunately the man at the stall spotted them again.

Merlin frowned, scanning the area quickly for anyone watching.

Suddenly the large pile of shiny round fruit tilted slightly, one lone apple rolling down followed by a multitude of others gathering momentum as they sped to the ground and off the table.

The stall seller yelped but was too distracted keeping his trousers up to do more than shout as the boy and girl Merlin had been watching crammed their pockets full of apples and fled the scene, ill fitting clothes on their scrawny frames flapping behind them.

Merlin grinned, watching the ruckus over the fallen fruit with no small amount of glee.

“ _Merlin_.” A voice sighed, chidingly. He schooled his face into an expression of pure innocence and looked into his mother’s warmly crinkled face.

“What?” He asked, a study in harmlessness.

“You know _what_ , you cheeky so and so.” His mother said sternly. Merlin ducked his head and shuffled his foot.

“They looked hungry.” He muttered, looking up again. Hunith nodded, eyes flickering to the left and displaying a hint of concern before she once again pierced him with a stern look.

“Plus, did you see his face?” Merlin added, gesturing to the stall owner, a grin splitting his face.

“Merlin.” His mother scolded again but it lost any sting it could have had when he saw her lips twitch in amusement.

“You should be more careful.” She warned, totally serious.

“No one saw.” 

“This time.”

They lapsed into silence, watching the crowd either nicking the apples or helping the man pick them back up.

Merlin picked up one of the red fruits when it rolled his way from someone’s careless foot.

“Give that back to the man.” Hunith ordered him gently but firmly.

“I was going to.” Merlin whined. He didn’t know whether to be annoyed or pleased that his mother didn’t believe him for a second as she just looked at him pointedly. He sighed and made his way through the small crowd, trying and failing to get the store sellers attention.

Eventually he succeeded.

“Yes? What do you want?” The man snapped.

Merlin silently held up the apple for him to take. The man’s face thawed.

“Thank you, lad.” He ruffled Merlin’s hair. Merlin stiffened at the touch but it didn’t last long enough for him to move away.

“You’re welcome, Mister.” Merlin said, turning to leave but a hand at his shoulder stopped him.

“Take this. Heavens knows I’ve lost today’s crop. Plus it’s too bruised to sell.” The man said, giving him back the unblemished apple and ruffling his hair once more.

“Thank you.” Merlin blinked, returning to his mother.

He glanced back at the much smaller looking stall now the apples were gone and felt a little guilty. But the boy and girl had looked so hungry! Like the hunger after a poor harvest and then a cold winter...and it was sunny today! Merlin didn’t even need his jacket.

And the stall owner looked well fed and had coin in his pocket. And his clothing was nice. Not like the nobles he’d seen at the feast but nicer than any he’d seen in Ealdor. 

He looked at the barely bruised apple in his hand and tucked it into his pocket. Suddenly he wasn’t hungry anymore.

“Come on, let’s go back to the castle and scrounge up an afternoon snack. I didn’t realise it was this late.” His mother said, walking them back the way they’d come. Merlin followed silently, not bothering to play his skipping game with avoiding the cracks.

His vision was suddenly overwhelmed with green and Merlin blinked at the fabric, slowly looking up the swathe of silky cloth to find the lady from yesterday and this morning looking at him in amusement.

“Well, hello again, Merlin.” She greeted.

“Lady Morgana.” Merlin remembered. She had looked like she was sucking a lemon when she attended the feast. A lot of men and woman had stared at her. She hadn’t looked much happier at breakfast with him, the prince and the king.

He couldn’t blame her. The silences were _awful_.

But it was better than shouting.

“Please, dispense of the titles, we’re practically related.” Morgana said with a smile. “So are you enjoying the market?” She asked, bending down slightly.

“Yes?” Merlin answered uncertainly. Was he supposed to like the stalls?

“My favourite one is the silk stand, the colours are mesmerising. What’s your favourite so far?” 

“...”

“Let me guess, the toy stand or is it the one with all the little cakes?” Morgana teased. 

“...I like the books.” He offered tentatively. She blinked as though surprised, thrown by his comment.

“You like reading?” She asked archly. Merlin leaned against his mother’s hip and nodded. “Ah, forgive me the surprise, your father doesn’t like to even look at a book let alone read one.” 

Merlin said nothing. He wasn’t his fath-he wasn’t a prince.

“So, what sort of books do you like?” Morgana asked curiously. 

He shrugged.

“Stories? History? Romances?” 

He pulled a face at that one, lovey dovey books were boring. Will gagged theatrically whenever he felt a conversation got too sickening and he mocked romantic books with a sort of gleeful sadism.

Merlin didn’t want Will to think he was a sissy or anything! Plus not much ever really happened in the romance books Susan in Ealdor liked. 

Morgana laughed, a couple of heads turned their way.

“Okay, not romance books,” Merlin relaxed slightly, “your father pulls that same face at the merest mention of _emotions_.” Morgana added. Merlin tensed, leaning further into his mother. She ran a soothing hand through his hair.

“Oh, Merlin, why don’t you introduce us?” Hunith murmured softly, brushing back the hair from his face.

“Mother this is Morgana, Morgana, mother.” Merlin mumbled.

“Hunith, my lady.” His mother greeted with a curtsy. 

“A pleasure.” Morgana said. “Well, I should be off, the silk cart is calling.” Morgana gave a half smile half smirk as she inclined her head then moved off towards the market.

His mother led them up the path, continuing their way back to his new rooms.

(His rooms were huge! Bigger than the whole house in Ealdor and far finer. Honestly it was great...but a little intimidating. He really didn’t want to break something and he felt like he was guest even though he’d been told – by Gaius and his mother – that the rooms were _his_. He imagined Will would scoff at his new rooms and call him a fancy boy.)

“How are we ‘practically related’?” Merlin asked as they entered the cool stone of the castle.

“What?” His mother frowned.

“What Morgana said.” Merlin explained.

“Oh, well I presume she was talking about the fact she’s the Kings ward, almost his adopted daughter considering her role at court.” Hunith replied after a quiet moment of thought.

“Oh. Why is she the King’s ward?” 

“Because...because her parents aren’t around anymore.”

“You mean dead.” Merlin stated bluntly. His mother looked at him with a chiding expression. He shrugged; he wasn’t going to feel guilty for stating the truth. He’d long gotten over that trick.

Hunith sighed but nodded.

 

#

 

Merlin shifted from one foot to the other as he weighed the helm in his hands.

Was he supposed to...?

One of the bustling women who had taken over his new chambers temporarily adjusted the leather straps on his arm. The chain mail links were cool to the touch and Merlin wondered idly how many individual loops made up the shirt.

Much less than an adults one, he hazarded a guess, considering he was less than half the size of someone like Arthur.

Apparently the chain mail that was poured over his head was one of Arthur’s from when he was a child.

Merlin wasn’t quite sure what to think about that.

He sighed.

“Is it done yet?” He asked. (From his mother’s face she thought he was whining again. He _wasn’t_.) 

He lowered his arm ignoring the glare from the woman fiddling with the arm guard again.

“Nearly, young master, try for a little more patience.” The yellow haired woman tutted.

He had been patient! He had stood here while they fussed and dressed him in weird things (and he could dress himself thank you very much! He wasn’t a baby) and he didn’t even know why he was being dressed like this. The women had simply invaded his room!

Maybe if he had had prior warning he could have barricaded himself in and laughed while they attempted to siege his well supplied room. After all, he had an apple. That was enough supplies until dinner. Maybe even breakfast.

And water.

_And_ his door bolted. _Awesome_.

“Why is this necessary? I can dress myself.” Merlin complained resisting the urge to scowl.

The yellow haired woman blinked at him, as if _he_ was the stupid one.

“How else are you supposed to train if not properly equipped with protective armour?”

“Train?” Merlin parroted with a frown and a sinking feeling. Much as he had enjoyed running around Ealdor pretending to be a sword fighter of renown along with Will playing the scurvy knave he wasn’t all that enamoured with actually learning how to use a real sword.

They were sharp. Pointy. And the flat bits hurt worse than a smack when they struck skin.

Maybe she meant some other type of training?

Like horse riding? He liked horses, they were funny when they ate apples from your hand.

The yellow haired woman dashed the small sliver of hope like a bug under foot.

“Sword training, of course! And probably other things like mace, crossbow and lance training and hunting...all sorts of things boys like you love to do.” She spoke like he was as dim witted as Phil. The donkey in Ealdor that barked at the chickens.

He decided he didn’t like her.

“But I don’t want to train.” He objected.

“Nonsense. Of course you do, how else will you be good at it?”

Merlin scowled. He didn’t _want_ to be good at sword fighting. He didn’t _want_ to be a knight. 

And he certainly didn’t want to stand here amidst all this unnecessary fussing whilst waiting for his doom to strike.

Perhaps they would give him a kind tutor? With lots of patience? Who perhaps understood that Merlin much preferred to learn about the world around him than which end to poke people with a stick of metal?


	2. ...Beggars would ride.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where the statues are stone and dragons are confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer.

Arthur grinned. Today was a good day. He could sense it.

He was going to teach his son the basics of how to fight just like Uther had once done for him and hopefully get to know a bit more about the dark haired lad.

He wagered Merlin would turn out to be a natural, like him, and soon come to adore the art Arthur had spent years perfecting. 

It would be their common ground, a way to bond.

He made his way to the training ground cheerfully, feeling the sun warm the exposed skin of his face. He nodded to Sir Leon who was standing quietly to the side watching the newest recruits spar with interest, visibly compiling a list of things for them to improve upon.

“Sir Leon, have you seen to it that Merlin has been outfitted with a sword?” Arthur asked. Leon was a good knight with a loyal heart below his sturdy shoulders. Arthur had thought him the best to find a sword that would match up to Merlin’s stature.

Leon turned reluctantly from the spar.

“There wasn’t a sword in the armoury fit for his stature. I took the liberty of giving him a wooden one instead.” Leon said quietly. Arthur frowned.

“You know that sparring with a blunt metal sword is far better to encourage reflexes than a wooden one.” 

Leon nodded fingers tapping against his hauberk. 

“Yes sire, however, it would not do to outfit the lad with a sword too heavy or with too great a reach. It would encourage bad habits to form. Even the smallest wooden swords look to be too big for the lad. If you really want him to train properly he will have to have a sword commissioned.”

Arthur valued Sir Leon’s input in a way he didn’t most other peoples. Which was why he was listening to him.

Leon looked away, to the sparring pair who had halted their movements for now, before shifting his shoulders.

“Pardon me, Sire, but it also seemed more prudent to give the lad a wooden sword. He wasn’t at all comfortable with them.” 

Arthur scoffed.

“He just doesn’t know how to properly hold a sword yet. He’ll be fine after a few minutes tutelage. He’s a Pendragon.”

Leon avoided his gaze again.

“Perhaps, Sire, you might reconsider having Sir Ewan teach the lad? He is good with beginners and patient.”

Arthur frowned.

“Thank you for your input Sir Leon, but I don’t think that will be necessary.” Arthur clapped the man on the shoulder and strode off to where he could just about spy a small figure standing at the edge of the field.

He approached quietly, not managing silently in his armour, and studied the young boy.

Merlin didn’t have the bulk, the sturdy frame that Arthur had carried through childhood and still bore today strengthened by training. So the hauberk was loose on the lad. His bony wrists poked out of long sleeves, exposed and far too vulnerable.

Arthur picked up the helmet that was sitting on the ground evidently discarded by the child.

“Ready?” He asked, watching as Merlin jolted out of his thoughts, finally realising he was there.

(Arthur would have to work on that, his approach had hardly been subtle. A prince should always be alert.)

Wide eyes locked onto him, hands looking far too frail as they clutched the wooden stave tightly. Arthur didn’t care to see his son looking so defenceless so he tossed over the helmet.

Merlin fumbled the catch, dropping the sword and letting out a muffled ‘oof’ as the solid helmet impacted with his chest.

Arthur narrowed his eyes; it hadn’t been a hard throw, no force behind the gentle lob.

“First rule of combat: don’t drop your weapon.” Arthur chided picking up and offering the stave to the child. The helmet was too big for the boy. Merlin pushed it back enough to look at him but didn’t say anything.

“Ready?” Arthur asked again, hefting his own wooden sword. He could hardly fight the lad with a real one when he was using a wooden toy.

“Would it make a difference if I said no?” The child asked, holding the sword with uncertainly, tip pointing down to the ground.

“Not really.” Arthur responded. 

Arthur readied himself, he would have to go gently – this was Merlin’s first time using a sword. He found attacking and seeing how the new recruits responded was a good indicator to see what the training needed to focus on. He didn’t train children usually but the principal should be the same.

With reluctance Merlin raised the wooden sword aloft with two hands holding it out in front of him looking at it like it would turn around and bite him.

“Body. Shield. Body Shield.” Arthur swung into motion following his words with actions. Merlin shifted the wooden sword but didn’t manage to repel any of the attacks. In fact his wooden sword didn’t so much as touch Arthur’s.

Arthur made the conscious effort to keep the blows as gentle as possible, barely striking flesh.

He came to a halt watching as the child raised his sword slightly, uncertainly.

“Shield.” Merlin stated giving a hesitant swing at Arthur’s shield before dropping the sword entirely.

“Head.” 

“Head? Ow!” Merlin glared, rubbing his head but made no move to pick up his weapon. Arthur frowned.

“Come on, Merlin. You’re not even trying.” Arthur half chided half taunted as Merlin finally (what had Arthur said about dropping your weapon?) made to pick up the stick of wood.

“I am!” Merlin huffed, arms shaking as he hefted the weapon that was about as deadly as Arthur’s shoe.

“Once more.” Arthur said, watching Merlin’s feet and body language.

“Oh, no.” Merlin muttered, cheeks puffing like a squirrel as he huffed again.

“To the left. To the right. And left. Head.”

“Ow!” Merlin, caught off balance with the sword that looked far too long for such a small boy, toppled over backwards. His helmet rolled off and he made no move to return to his feet.

“Is it over?” The child asked hopefully, looking up at the blue sky above dotted with fluffy clouds.

Arthur hesitated. This was not going at all like he had expected...He had thought that any child of his would at least be innately good at sword fighting, at least have the wherewithal to actually _move_ during a spar. And even if he didn’t have natural talent at it then Arthur was sure enthusiasm would make up for its lack.

Footwork was essential. Possibly the most important part of sword fighting apart from actually holding the weapon by the hilt.

He glanced at the wooden sword lying abandoned on the damp grass. Perhaps sword fighting wasn’t Merlin’s thing. (Plus Arthur hated training – and teaching – with a wooden sword. It encouraged far poorer reflexes than training with real metal swords.)

“That was just the warm up. Let’s see how you fare with a mace.” Arthur suggested brightly. 

(It wasn’t until he handed the child a mace that he realised an essential flaw in his plan. The mace was simply too heavy for Merlin to pick up let alone wield properly.)

 

#

 

Merlin huffed, rolling over and disturbing the nest of pillows on his bed. Again. 

He couldn’t get to sleep. The bed was far too comfortable. (Ha! Merlin never thought he would think _that_.) He was used to sleeping on the floor of their hut in Ealdor not the fine bed he now found himself in filled with feathers and with more pillows than an entire village would need!

He shivered as a cool breeze drifted over his exposed shoulders and pulled the blanket up over his head.

He frowned; he could have sworn he heard something along with the small gust of air, something that sounded remarkably similar to his name.

It came again. Along with another brush of air.

Merlin stiffened. He was under the quilt, how had the air gotten there?

The voice called his name again and Merlin wasn’t sure if he was imagining the amusement or not.

Slowly he crawled over to the edge of the bed and carefully he jumped down, making sure to muffle his landing with a squishy pillow.

He swung his jacket over his shoulders and slowly crept out of his room, wincing when the door opened with a creak, the ancient latch finally lifting with some effort. He stiffened when the door opened fully hoping the noise hadn’t woken his mother.

She was a light sleeper and had a second sense when it came to him ‘causing mischief’. (Her words.)

After a few seconds of continued quiet Merlin relaxed once more, tiptoeing into the outer room and heading to the door, only pausing briefly to pull the blanket over his mother’s shoulders before stepping out into the hall.

He glanced around cautiously, nabbed the torch just sitting there in its bracket (with a little help from the wooden box he shifted just a bit so he could actually reach the torch) before following the voice down the steps of the castle, into the depths he hadn’t yet explored and past the dungeons. 

(He used their game as distraction...plus maybe enchanting their dice a little.)

He crept down the steps muffling a yawn. 

Who could be calling him mentally? Because from the guards lack of reaction and the fact his mother stayed asleep the voice couldn’t be speaking aloud.

“ _Merlin..._ ”

He dragged his jacket tighter against him as the chill (from being so far beneath the castle) crawled over him seeking any gap or crevice in his clothing to sink its claws into.

Finally he made it to the bottom of the steps and with only his torch for light he stepped out into a large cavern.

“Hello?” He called, not seeing a way to continue on his path. No one answered.

“Hello? Anyone there?” He tried again, not willing to call this venture a loss just yet.

Just as he was about to give up (he was tired, cold and still ached from the sword fighting lesson) a large figure swooped in settling on the rock in front of Merlin with catlike ease.

Merlin’s draw dropped.

Large golden eyes surveyed him.

“How very small you are for such a great destiny.” The dragon said in a deep, lulling voice, settling more comfortably and lowering his head, chin propped up his front claws (paws?). The dragon didn’t blink. Merlin wasn’t sure he could remember how to.

Merlin abruptly found his voice.

“What? Why-Can you breathe fire?” He asked too excitedly to finish one question before beginning another. “And are you magic? Is that how you talked in my head? Why were you calling me? Why are you down here? Why-”

The dragon, looking increasingly exasperated, held up a long claw to quieten him.

Merlin snapped his mouth shut and gazed with rapt awe at the long scaled paw just in front of his face.

“Arthur is the Once and Future King who will unite the all the land of Albion but he-”

The dragon immediately stopped talking when Merlin stepped closer and reached out to touch the claw, small hands running over the strong bone before touching the scales below.

“Scales.” Merlin breathed not listening to a word the dragon was saying, too enraptured with the real life dragon in front of him. He had always wanted to meet a dragon! “Are you like a snake?” He asked, looking up curiously.

“I am a dragon, little Warlock-”

“Yes,” Merlin interrupted again, focusing back on the claw, “but do you shed your skin? Like a snake? Because they have scales too.”

The dragon snorted and a great ball of fire seemed to explode outwards. It wasn’t that big and more in a ring around him than directed right at him but Merlin could feel the heat from it.

Once again his mouth hung open.

“He will face threats from friends and foes alike and it is-”

“Wow! Can you do that again? I think my eyebrows are scorched!-”

The great dragon continued talking seeming to find ignoring Merlin the best option.

“-However he will not succeed without-”

“-That was amazing! I can’t wait to tell Will, he’ll be so jealous. Actually, he’ll probably want to meet-”

“-you. Without you there will be no Albion.”

“-but I’m not sure bringing him to Camelot is the best idea. Do you want an apple?”

The Great Dragon blinked.

“Why would I want an apple?” He eventually asked, looking at the bright red fruit held out in Merlin’s palm with the faintest hint of disdain and more than a bit of confusion.

Merlin shrugged.

“Well if you’re locked up in this cave I doubt you get many apples.”

The Great Dragon blinked again.

“Well, that’s one way of putting it.”

Merlin decided not to voice the logical (to his mind at least) reason that horses liked apples so why shouldn’t dragons? He had a feeling that might not go down very well.

“I am a creature of the old religion.” The Dragon intoned and Merlin wondered if he was going to have to listen to yet another lecture. Why did adults insist on trying to prove to him that they were clever? He already knew that they knew more than him (in most cases), considering they had lived more years but they didn’t need to prove it by boring him to death.

“And thus require no sustenance other than the natural magic that flows around us continually.”

Merlin stifled a yawn.

The dragon peered at him and Merlin got the feeling he was under the scrutiny of someone raising their eyebrow at him. 

“I suppose very young warlocks need their sleep.” The dragon sighed sounding rather put out before flying away, the chain hanging from his ankle clanging against the rock.

Merlin jumped, almost losing his grip of the over large torch.

“Wait!” He called but the dragon was already gone.

He made his way back into the castle and into bed without singing his toes or further mishap. Which was almost a shame really; the night could have done with a little adventure.

Meeting a dragon was awesome and Merlin couldn’t wait to tell Will but it kind of took the mystique out of it when the dragon was chained up and festering underneath the castle forgotten by all.

Well, it didn’t really but it was...sad.

Merlin suddenly hated the shackles with fervour previously unknown. What right did some chunks of metal have to hold someone down? To keep them from sunlight? To take away their freedom?

He completely forgot to return the torch to its bracket and instead stewed, pacing in his room and glaring like the curtains had done something to mortally offend him.

Merlin transferred his glare to the silver candlesticks gleaming in the firelight.

“And where have you been?” A voice asked archly.

Merlin gasped, spinning around and finally dropping the lit torch at his feet...unfortunately right onto the pillow he had moved onto the floor earlier. The pillow set alight with a sudden blaze. Merlin jumped back automatically.

A jug of water was upended, quenching the small fire.

He glanced up sheepishly catching his mother’s unimpressed look.

“Looking for secret passages?” He offered.

She raised an eyebrow, obviously to tell him to try another one.

“I thought someone was calling my name.” He admitted, glancing down at his feet.

His mother sighed.

“Try not to go wandering by yourself, Merlin, remember what happened last time?”

He stiffened, hunching his shoulders inwards as if to make a smaller target.

“That-that was different.” His eyes darted round the room making sure there was no one hiding in the shadows. His mother looked at him sadly.

“Not different enough.” She murmured, running a soothing hand through his hair. He shivered. “Now, how about you get back to bed and try for some sleep?”

Merlin nodded jumping up onto the bed and crawling under the covers.

He watched as she gathered up the singed, sopping pillow. She brushed his forehead with a kiss and he closed his eyes.

Sleep was a futile endeavour when every few minutes he had to wrench his eyes open and check there really was no one hiding in the shadows.

 

#

 

Merlin dressed reluctantly in his training gear, scrubbing his face and attempting to stifle a yawn. He wasn’t looking forward to another session of getting beaten up by Arthur.

It was bad enough that he had to train never mind the fact that Arthur looked so disappointed when Merlin failed at this weapon then the next and the next and the next...

He kicked his bed post. A throbbing pain shot through his foot. Well, that didn’t calm him down any, just made him feel more miserable!

He poked at the bread a maid servant had brought up when he was washing.

“Eat up; you’ll need your strength.” His mother advised, carefully slicing up an apple.

“I don’t want to train with Arthur.” Merlin said grumpily.

“He’s your father, Merlin; he’s trying to do his best by you.”

“Hmpf.”

She offered him a neat slice of apple shaped like a smile. He grudgingly took it, putting it on his plate alongside his uneaten roll.

She picked up another slice and bit into the flesh in such a way that the skin of the apple acted as a third lip, making it look like she was smiling with green peel lips.

He copied her, mustering up a small but genuine grin as he ate the sweet-sharp fruit.

“Why don’t you give him a chance?” His mother asked once the apple was demolished. Merlin frowned at the table. The bruise on his jaw had faded for the most part and he didn’t blame Arthur for it (it was hardly the first time he had been bruised and not at all comparable pain wise) but he hadn’t exactly seen enough of Arthur to endear him either.

“Alright.” He sighed gustily, attempting to look put-upon. 

His mother smiled. He hid his answering smile behind his goblet of milk.

It was sunny again, which was nice, but Merlin could see the grey clouds begin to gather. Hopefully rain meant he wouldn’t have training.

Merlin doubted it, but it was a nice hope.

“Little prince!” 

Merlin barely heard the call (and certainly didn’t assume it was directed at him) as he gingerly picked up the wooden sword from yesterday.

He could barely raise it with two arms, let alone with one. It had been hard enough trying to swing it the day before let alone trying to remember the correct way of standing, correct posture all the while being criticised for this and that.

If he could have wielded it one handed he would have!

“Little prince.” The voice repeated closer and Merlin looked up at a familiar face.

“Sir Ewan.” He greeted, with more enthusiasm than he would any other knight. (Sir Leon was perhaps the only other one who would get any warmth from him; the man had been fair when trying to fit him to a sword.)

“Little prince,” Merlin blinked at this new form of address, “I’m to take your training this morning.”

“Is Arthu-I mean, the Prince, busy then?” Merlin enquired feeling a surge of relief that Arthur wasn’t going to be sending him disappointed looks all day and unhelpful advice.

“He has to oversee the knights training. I’ll be taking over yours from now on.” Sir Ewan informed him with a small upwards curve of his lips that was just a little warmer than lukewarm.

Merlin’s fingers twitched around the wooden sword. A crushing surge of disappointment flooded through him.

His face fell.

Ah, so he hadn’t matched up to Arthur’s expectations then.

(Well, he knew that, had known it, but...the reality hurt more than Merlin had expected.)

He didn’t know he wanted Arthur’s approval, wanted to see a little pride perhaps from the man who sired him. But apparently he wasn’t worth the effort to train, not since he was such a _disappointment_.

(Why had he expected it to be any different?)

“Is everything alright?” Sir Ewan asked awkwardly, as if not quite sure what to say.

“Everything is fine.” Merlin lied, mustering the brightest smile he could. He wasn’t sure it was very bright however as Sir Ewan didn’t look convinced. He let the matter be and Merlin felt a small surge of gratitude for that small mercy.

“Right, well I saw a little bit of the training yesterday,” Merlin didn’t even bother to feel embarrassed, “and I think we need to start at the basics, just like most other people.” Sir Ewan gave him a smile that had a sliver of amusement within.

“Hand to hand combat first, you need to know how your body moves and train it before you can get to any of the weapons. After all, your body is both your first defence and your first weapon...”

 

#

 

Arthur watched as two of his knights sparred, eyeing their forms critically.

“Finished already? I would have thought you’d work the poor boy to death.” A familiar female voice drawled. Arthur closed his eyes briefly and refused to give her the satisfaction of any other visible response.

“What are you talking about now, Morgana? Can’t you speak plainly for once?”

She sniffed; a delicate sound completely at odds to her personality.

“I thought you were training Merlin. You know, _your son_.”

He grimaced. He could admit to himself that he was disappointed that Merlin wasn’t a natural at fighting like he had been; it would have been a place to bond from. But it appeared that Merlin just didn’t have that fighting instinct, seemed to almost baulk at causing someone pain.

“I instructed Sir Ewan to take over his training.”

“I’m sorry, what did you say? I thought you were excited to instruct him as if he was one of your loyal hounds-sorry, knights.” Morgana smiled sharply.

Arthur shrugged. “He hasn’t got the knack for it.”

“So he’s a lover not a fighter. What of it? What does that have to do with you not training him?” Morgana asked.

“I’m not the right instructor for him.” 

“And Sir Ewan is?” He could almost feel her raised eyebrow.

“Surprisingly enough, yes. He has the patience and knowledge to start from ground up.”

“Did that hurt you to say?” 

He gritted his teeth, shooting her a glare. She looked supremely unconcerned.

“So, what other activity are you going to do to ‘bond’ with your darling son?”

Arthur glowered. Morgana inhaled sharply and shot him a glare.

“You can’t just give up on him! Not because he isn’t as good as you with a sword!” She exclaimed, eyes narrowed to slits.

“I’m not!” Arthur defended, his own ire rising. She raised an eyebrow in challenge for him to refute her claim. “I’m not.” He repeated. “I just don’t know what else to-how do you talk with a child? Let alone your own child?”

She looked at him for a long moment. 

“Ah, so it isn’t a case of you giving up, just you being a coward.”

Arthur opened his mouth in outrage but Morgana beat him to the punch. 

“You assumed he’d be good at fighting, that he’d turn out to be similar enough to you that you would have an easy basis to form a camaraderie; that you could talk battle tactics to, spar with like one of your knights. But he isn’t like you and now you don’t know what to do so instead of trying you cower behind your knights.”

Her words were harsh but not spat at him venomously like he might have expected. In fact there was a glimmer of sympathy in those dark merciless eyes. It was gone in a flash and Arthur barely had time to wonder if he’d imagined it before she spoke again.

“You have to try.”

“I know.”

“And soon.” Morgana urged.

Arthur didn’t deign to answer.

 

#

 

Merlin skulked around the castle after training having dodged his mother.

Training had gone much better than yesterday. Merlin had a conflicted response to that.

On one hand, he was pleased he was doing better or the material was more suited. On the other, well, Arthur had evidently given up on him, hadn’t even spoken to him or sought him out even though they were on the same field.

He hadn’t realised he had actually wanted Arthur to take notice in him until that first stab of disappointment hit.

He knew that Arthur was his father but he was eight! He had been fine without a father for eight years; surely he didn’t need one now.

Besides, he had his mother.

But this reasoning didn’t explain the hurt.

Arthur was his father and to be brushed aside with nary a word was...unexpectedly painful.

He stared mournfully at the statue of the dog wishing it was alive so he could sink his fingers into its fur and cuddle close, feeling a reassuring heart beat thud close to his own.

The stone remained stone and Merlin sighed at further proof that wishes just did not come true. 

No matter what Will said.

A butterfly flew past; its slender wings beating up and down almost faster than the eye could catch as it determinedly made its way.

He wished he could fly. That would be brilliant.

“And what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be with your tutor?” 

Merlin gasped, spinning round at the familiar voice interrupted his musings.

“Gaius!” He exclaimed, stepping closer to the aged man and peering curiously at the vials in his grip.

Gaius shifted them a little higher so Merlin couldn’t touch.

“I notice you haven’t answered my question, Merlin.” Gaius chided.

Merlin frowned, trying to think up something believable that wouldn’t get him into trouble. He wasn’t going to admit that Arthur had hurt his feelings, he wasn’t a cry baby.

Gaius waited, his eyebrow slowly arching up into his hairline. Merlin was almost fascinated. 

It was almost the exact same look his mother used when trying to wheedle information from him.

Scary thought.

“Arthur’s a prat.” He blurted out, quite without meaning to. He straightened his shoulders as he waited for Gaius to chide him in that very adult manner about not being rude and that Arthur wasn’t that bad.

Instead Gaius sighed and simply said: “Well, I don’t suppose you would like to help and old man on his rounds?” 

Merlin blinked. Then grinned.

“Yes! Please!” He tacked on when he remembered the manners his mother was always trying to drill into him, pesky things manners. “I’ll carry some vials if you like!” He offered eagerly.

Gaius made a face that was half a smile half a frown.

“Er, perhaps not.” Gaius murmured as Merlin tripped over yet another cobblestone. “Here, why don’t you carry this for me, instead?” Gaius passed him a small cloth bag that smelt strange.

Merlin immediately opened it to peer inside. Gaius tapped him on the head giving him an unimpressed look. He sheepishly closed the bag and held it carefully as he trotted along after Gaius.

“While your curiosity is commendable, it would be best if you didn’t nose around other peoples things without asking.” Gaius chided not sounding all that offended.

“What does commendable mean?” Merlin asked.

“Well, it means...admirable, that it is good you have curiosity, praise worthy. However, you need to curb it a little when it comes to people and their possessions.”

“Okay. What are the herbs in the bag?” 

Gaius raised an eyebrow. Again.

“Didn’t I just mention curbing curiosity when it comes to peoples things?” Gaius muttered to himself before answering the question.

 

#

 

It was later, after he had finished his rounds with his young tag along, that Gaius decided it was high time for a meal.

The fact that Merlin perked up visibly when he mentioned this had nothing whatsoever to do with the decision.

Gaius set about heating up some soup while Merlin diligently toasted some bread over the fire. Gaius felt his lips twitch slightly at the sight of the young boy sitting there, tongue sticking out between his teeth as he concentrated, carefully turning the skewers holding the bread.

Merlin had listened eagerly when Gaius had explained about the herbs and their various functions but he doubted the lad would recall much of it, he was as flighty as a sparrow, going from one topic to the next in leaps of ‘logic’ that Gaius couldn’t even begin to follow.

But the curiosity and lively enthusiasm was a refreshing change.

Gaius blinked when he saw Merlin no longer at the fireplace but by the book shelf again, leaning sideways to read the titles.

“Merlin,” honestly, the boy needed to have at least a modicum of self control – to at least complete the task before going onto something else, before he set the rooms on fire or something similar – “what about the bread?” He prompted.

Merlin glanced at him as though he was the one doing something silly.

“It’s fine.” Merlin shrugged.

Gaius glanced at the fire the protest dying in his throat.

There, just above the flames were the skewers of bread, hovering in the air turning slowly.

Gaius slowly sunk down onto a chair.

“What incantation did you use? What spell?” Gaius asked reflexively even as his eyes darted to the door to make sure it was closed and that no one was about to burst in.

Merlin frowned.

“I don’t know any spells.” He admitted.

“Then how do you explain that?” Gaius waved to the fireplace. 

“Well, one of the skewers got a bit warm and I dropped it.” Merlin answered, clearly thinking he had given a complete and logical answer to a stupid question.

Gaius managed to reclaim the use of his legs and went over to the hovering skewers, picking them up carefully and with just a hint of wariness. He sighed as he put them on the table, on the wooden plates he’d set out.

“Merlin, I know your mother has told you of the importance of keeping your magic hidden.” Gaius began. Merlin nodded, shuffling over, shoulders almost hunched up to his ears. Gaius looked at the woe begotten expression and decided not to lecture. This time.

“Well, sit down and eat your soup.”

The sorrowful expression was gone in a flash and a beaming smile took its place as Merlin clambered onto the bench.

The bread, Gaius found, was toasted to perfection, a delightfully crisp compliment to the soup.

So he soon forgot (or rather, pushed away) the remaining trepidation. It was rather nice having company for a meal.

Well, nice until he accidently knocked over the soup pot still half full and all would have gone spilling to the floor had Merlin not caught the bowl and soup, eyes momentarily flashing a bright gold.

(Hunith had told him about Merlin’s powers, told him that he could float things with an absent thought, that magic came just as instinctively to Merlin as breathing. But it was one thing to hear it and quite another to witness first hand.)

Gaius felt his heart slowly calm. Merlin looked just as rattled as he felt.

“I didn’t mean to!” The child exclaimed, before Gaius could lecture on the importance of keeping his magic hidden. “I-It just happens.” The boy added miserably.

Gaius sighed and patted the lad gently on the head.

“It’s alright, be glad I’m the only one in the room.” The ‘this time’ went unsaid, unacknowledged but whispered in the back of Gaius’ mind like a festering poison.

“But Merlin, you need to gain control over it, otherwise someone will find out and it will be your head on the chopping block.” Perhaps it was harsh for him to speak so to a young boy but softening the truth would only get all their necks on the line.

Merlin nodded silently, eyes wide with distress.

“But how?” The child asked.

Gaius thought for a while, making up a tea of herbs that would calm them. Heaven knows he needed it and Merlin probably did if he was ever going to get to sleep that night. A sliver of valerian root and camomile went into the water to steep and the scent of brewing tea filled the room.

Slowly, almost reluctantly, Gaius pulled out a bundle of cloth, unfolding it to reveal a book.

“Here. This might help.” He passed it to the child wondering if he was doing the right thing. It might help the boy control his magic or it might be found and sentence the boy to the noose. He would have to tell Hunith so they could find a good hiding place for it.

Merlin flicked through it eyes widening.

“Are you sure?” Merlin asked, hushed, as he drank in the words sprawled around the pages, eyeing the notations with fascination.

Gaius smiled at the look of wonder.

“Yes.” He said with quiet surety. 

He gave a muffled ‘oof’ when the lad leapt over trying to hug him while still holding the book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \--‘Camomile is often used to treat things like treating hay fever, inflammation, muscle spasm, menstrual disorders, insomnia, ulcers, gastrointestinal disorder.’ And used as a calming aid. Valerian root is most often used for sleep disorders and for anxiety problems.
> 
> While both have studies proving they work to treat these things always be careful when self medicating (or don’t self medicate) and make sure you know exactly what you are doing. The raw herbs are dangerous when used inappropriately.
> 
> This is a fan fiction. I am not a doctor, nor well versed in herbal law. Do not take anything written here as fact and certainly do not try this at home. --


End file.
